Whip-Poor-Will

My family has a boat upon the lake


I’m sure they mean me no harm nor ill will.

See how the water becomes a moonwake.

My brother brought a spear and killed a drake

I saw it out my bolted scuttle sill.


My family has a boat upon the lake.

My mother keeps begging me my thirst to slake

She frets so when the cups she holds near spill

See how the water becomes a moonwake.

My papa calls me his own sweet cake,

His love tuning the call of a whip-poor-will.

My family has a boat upon the lake.

When I asked the stars if death was to make

I heard naught but chop out from the night’s chill.

See how the water becomes a moonwake.

I’ll not see it come, nor will I awake

The stars prepare a bed for me to fill.

My family has a boat upon the lake.

See how the water becomes a moonwake.